Equinoxium: Chapter 34
by Lisette
Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.
The world was silent and still, without even the whisper of a small breeze to lift the smoke that lay heavy over the sundered city, while the sky, dark and heavy with thick, roiling clouds, reflected the reddish light of the fires that razed the once green Pelennor Fields. Far away the crash of crumbling marble echoed off broken stone, the lonely sound carrying through Minas Tirith to where Buffy stood on the very edge of the embrasure - the same spot where she had stood only days ago with Spike at her side. Yet that had been a different day - a day in which the sun was shining and she had been surrounded by her friends.
This was not that day.
Frowning warily, Buffy cast her sharp gaze over the decimated city as a feeling of nostalgia ripped through her small frame. This was the Minas Tirith from her dream - a proud city of men that had been reduced to crumbled stone buildings and massive gates that had been battered into ruins. This was a vision of what would come if they failed in the final battle that night.
"It's very beautiful here."
"If you're into Hiroshima-like ruin, then yeah, I guess it has its own subtle charm," Buffy returned caustically as she arched a challenging brow at her watcher who stood at her side. Yet as she looked upon his grave features, she felt her eyes drawn beyond the older man and to the White Tree of Gondor that was now withered and dead in the courtyard beyond. "This isn't how it should be," she murmured, remembering well owyn's explanation of the White Tree and its connection to the lifeblood of this city.
"Nothing is as it should be," Giles corrected. "You were born to one world and yet now you live in another. You were given certain gifts to aid you in fighting the darkness and yet now those same gifts have created darkness. Nothing is as it should be, and yet you are here for a reason. Most people in this world have no idea why they are here, but you-"
"Have a reason for being here," Buffy finished with a tired sigh. "Yeah, we've already covered this," she continued as she shot her watcher a sharp glance. "I'm the Chosen One, the girl with all the power, and I'm the one who can make the difficult decisions, blah blah blah," she sighed as she waved impatiently. "As I said, we've already done this. I understand now the power I have-"
"Do you?" the watcher cut in, his eyes dark.
Eyes slipping shut, Buffy turned away from his piercing gaze as she heard the soldier's dying screams anew. "How could I not? My blood is my own - it's what keeps my heart pumping, my lungs beating, and my thoughts spinning. I need my blood to live, but it has a power all its own. It gives me the power to build darkness. It gives me the power to kill," she murmured as she slowly opened her eyes and looked down upon her small hands - hands that were once covered in blood.
"Then you haven't learned anything at all."
"So why don't you spell it out for me?" Buffy snapped as she turned to glare at the man she would always love as a father. Yet no answer was forthcoming, and the silence thickened between them as Buffy wearily turned away. "Listen, you know that I've never been good with the cryptic, so what I don't need is you or anyone else pointing out how little I know," she hissed as she rubbed her aching forehead. "I remember how this dream goes and I don't need Dawn to try and goad me into winning this battle. I don't need Xander or Willow, or even Spike telling me what I'm doing wrong. I don't need or want the loneliness or hate that comes with this job, but I've dealt with it before and I will again. The past is behind us now and I'm left to figure this thing out as I go along, just as I always have."
"But things are not as they always have been. Times are different now - darker."
Opening her eyes at the familiar voice, Buffy found herself once more standing in the middle of a battlefield. The world was as it was the night before, only worse, if possible, for there was no room to breathe amongst the many combatants as foe and ally alike struggled for life. Once more the armies had engaged one another upon the blood-stained Pelennor Fields, and once more their bodies were frozen mid-strike or in their death throes. As before, in front of her stood a horrific tableau in which Vashnak stood poised with his powerful arm drawn back and his fingers curled around the edge of his taut bow string, one arrow set against the curved wood. Following the straight shaft, Buffy saw that again the arrow was aimed at Legolas, the blond elf standing unarmed with red blood smeared across his pale face. Only this time, Arwen, Queen of Gondor, stood between the two elves, a vision of starlight and grace.
"I don't understand," Buffy murmured as she took a step closer to the tall she-elf.
"The time is coming, and when it arrives you will have no place amongst them. You were meant to stand alone, and in the end, you will be alone, for he will not be there for you."
Frowning, Buffy slowly shook her head as she continued forward until she was standing directly before the beautiful elf, in between Vashnak's arrow and Legolas' heart. "Who won't-" she began as she arched her neck back to meet the elf's saddened gaze.
"When the time comes, he will not choose you," Arwen repeated as she slowly reached out and brushed her hand against Buffy's forehead. "He will not choose you."
Gasping, Buffy bolted upright in her bed as her wild eyes swept over the empty chamber, echoes of the queen's warning rippling through her mind. As before, the dream remained sharp and vivid in her mind, leaving no doubt that her slayer heritage had dropped yet another prophecy onto the lap of one who seemed so abysmally unworthy. The dreams were hardly ever meant to be taken literally, and instead every word spoken, and every action and setting were steeped in hidden meanings that, without fail, eluded her until she was able to look back in hindsight and make the connections that would then seem glaringly obvious.
"Stupid slayer dreams," Buffy grumbled as she ran a hand through her matted bed hair, only to freeze at that small reminder of her eventful morning and Arwen's ensuing visit. Frowning, fingers tangled in her rumpled silky tresses, the slayer glanced to her wall of windows and the warm sunlight that fell upon the polished glass from a far different angle then before, indicating that several hours had passed since the queen's visit. Hours that Buffy had spent fast asleep and oblivious to the many things that needed worrying about before the night set in.
"Stupid sneaky elves," she grumbled as she shoved back her soft blankets and crawled towards the edge of the massive bed. While she knew that she had been tired from the night before, her exhaustion couldn't explain how quickly she had dropped into sleep, especially when sleep had been preceded by the embarrassing fact that it had been the Queen of Gondor who had tucked her into bed. No, Arwen must have had something to do with her prolonged and strangely restful sleep, Buffy realized as she jumped down to the floor and started towards the Middle-earth version of the bathroom, one hand still tangled in her rumpled hair.
Suddenly Buffy felt a cold draft fan across her exposed flesh, causing her skin to prickle as she instinctively darted the remaining few steps into the adjoining chamber. Pressing her back against the cold stone wall, she suppressed a small shiver as she felt the adrenaline course through her veins, causing the last vestiges of sleep to flee before the heady rush. Breath slipping silently between parted lips, she took a quick stock of the bathroom, her expression barely shifting as she noted that her clothing from the night before was gone, and that the only weapon she would find in this polished room was herself.
Smiling coyly at her sleep tousled reflection, feeling the strength coursing through her veins, the slayer realized that she was the only weapon that she would need.
"Did he see you?"
"Nay, I think not."
Predatory smile dissolving as she recognized the familiar voices, Buffy turned from her reflection and stepped silently into the main bed chamber, her eyes following the source of the cold draft back to the balcony door that was gently being eased closed. Crossing her arms about her chest, Buffy watched in amusement as Elrohir and Elladan, the proud lords of Imladris, huddled before the wide expanse of glass, their lean backs turned towards her as they peered intently into the gardens below. "What are you two doing?" she asked, her voice sounding like a gunshot in the silent room as the brothers jumped and turned towards her, their eyes ridiculously wide.
"Buffy!" Elladan gasped, his eyes raking over her rumpled flannel pants and matted hair before shooting his brother a helpless look. "We..."
"We came to see how you fared," Elrohir explained as he flashed the slayer a brilliant smile - a smile that cracked beneath a loud, dwarven bellow from the gardens below. Wincing simultaneously with his twin, the younger elf turned back to survey the grounds below as he took a cautious step further into the room.
Laughing, Buffy's stance softened as she leaned against the edge of her dresser. "Okay, better question: what did you two do to Gimli that requires hiding out in the room with the nearest unlocked door?" she asked with a pointed nod to her balcony that sat three floors above the ground below.
"Ah yes, that," Elladan murmured with a long-suffering sigh. "Well you see, the dwarf truly was very heavy, and thus we decided to..."
"Lighten his load," Elrohir supplied with a bright smile.
Shaking her head in mock exasperation, Buffy fixed each elf with a pointed glare. "You hid his armor, didn't you?" she asked as their smiles only grew.
"But of course," Elrohir admitted shamelessly as Buffy rolled her eyes and ambled back towards her canopied bed.
"But of course," she repeated with a wry shake of her head as she waved the twins towards any number of chairs positioned in the large room. "Well, if you're going to be hiding out in my room, you might as well have a seat."
"We are not interrupting?" Elladan queried as he undid the clasp on his winter cloak. Turning, he draped it over the back of one of the chairs that was strategically placed before the large windows before settling lightly into its cushioned depths.
"No, I was just getting up," Buffy admitted as she settled back against the mountain of pillows, one hand digging beneath the covers until she was able to locate Mr. Gordo amongst the tangled blankets.
"But the day is yet early," Elrohir argued as he ignored the empty seats and ambled towards her pile of gifts that were still stacked neatly upon her dresser, his own cloak dropped carelessly somewhere along his path. "Should you not be sleeping still?"
Buffy's thoughts immediately flashed back to her slayer dream as she slowly shook her head - not that Elrohir would have seen, as he was far too immersed in paging through her gifted copy of the Slayer Handbook. "Too many thoughts in my head," Buffy answered instead, a small smile playing at her lips as the elf abandoned the book to open the bottle of whiskey, his nose scrunching in disdain at the smell of the strong liquor.
"Ah yes - the curse of being of the race of Men instead of Elven-kind," Elladan responded for his brother as he nodded knowingly at the slayer.
"What, the ability to think?" Buffy retorted, dragging her eyes from the younger twin's perusal of her stuff to arch a slender brow at the elder.
Lips twitching, Elladan curtly shook his head. "No, I was referring to the inability of Men to let go when the moment has passed," he explained as he stretched his long legs before him. "With thousands of years of memories and thoughts to fill us, the ability to do so is necessary or else madness would take us."
"If it hasn't already," Buffy muttered with a playful grin before slowly shaking her head. "I used to be good at letting go," she admitted, smiling wistfully as she tugged at Mr. Gordo's pink ear.
"And aside from the obvious, what is different now?" Elladan returned, his soft question causing Buffy's hands to still on the pig's tufted ears.
"Aside from the obvious?" she returned, her gaze turning inward as she was reminded of the same question that she had been asking herself that morning. While the circumstances here in Middle-earth were undoubtedly different than anything she had ever faced before, the fact remained that Buffy had been in hopeless and desperate situations before - and never had she fallen apart so spectacularly. Sure, she had died during her battle with the Master, and yes, she was forced to send her lover to Hell when facing Angelus, and okay, so maybe she did have to die to stop Glory - but the fact remained that she had faced all of those situations with far more aplomb and confidence than now. Hell, she was pretty sure that she had a swagger in her step each and every time she had faced certain death. So what had been so different this time?
"My friends," Buffy breathed as she turned to Elladan with eyes that were suddenly clear. "My friends were always there to make sure that the world never became too much," she explained, finally understanding the source of her uncertainty. Alone she may have always been weak, but it was together that they were strong. "Apocalypse coming? Time to hit the Bronze for a little down time," she added with a small snort of amusement. "Mortal danger? Nothing that can't be helped with a little sarcasm and ill-timed humor."
"So humor, metals, and dragging time is all that you require?" Elrohir absently responded as he abandoned the container of ground coffee with a look of disgust. "If so, then you truly have come to the right place, for my brother and I are never without humor, the dwarf can give you your fill of metals or talk thereof, and time will always drag when you are forced to endure Thoron's company," he explained before lifting the last item of his perusal. "And what, pray tell, is this?" he asked as he held the small device aloft.
"That?" Buffy returned as the elf gingerly carried it closer and settled on the bed beside her. "That's an MP3 player," she explained as Elladan abandoned his chair to join his brother's curious inspection of the small square of modern technology. "It uh... it plays music," she haltingly explained as the twins turned to her in confusion.
"But how?" Elladan demanded as he eyed the player with growing distrust. "Where are the musicians? Where are the singers?"
"Well they're not in there," Buffy laughed as she snatched the player from Elrohir's cupped hands. "Guys, it's just a machine," she stated as she unplugged the earphones and began toggling through the different artists listed in the small LCD display. "Someone somewhere recorded the musicians and singers, used some neat machinery that I couldn't even begin to explain to make them sound good, and then put them in here so that people can play it back and listen to it later," she explained as she found the most non-intrusive artist she could find. Smiling, she quickly selected a random Enya song and turned up the volume, her smile growing as the twins instantly started at the first soft cords.
"Saruman believed in machines," Elrohir stated, his voice grave. "He was-"
"Evil, yeah, I got the memo," Buffy cut in with a wry smile. "But in my world, our society is built upon machines. I mean, if it weren't for machines, how would we be able to listen to our favorite music whenever we wanted?" she asked as Elladan took a hesitant step closer, his face lit with cautious wonder as he bent to inspect the small, slender box that was cradled in her hands. "It's not like we can take the band with us wherever we go," she added as she unceremoniously dropped the player in the elf's strong grip.
"Perhaps," the elder twin allowed, "but your voice is something that cannot be left behind," he argued as he began pushing buttons, his features twisting into a grimace as the loud strains to a Linkin' Park song burst from the tiny speakers.
"Yeah, but some people, myself included, shouldn't be allowed to use their voices for anything but talking," Buffy stated with a self-deprecating smile.
"Ah, so you have been forced to endure Gimli's singing after all?" Elrohir asked before snatching the player from his brother's hands. "How do you go back, muindor-nin," he demanded as he, too, began pushing buttons. "I think that last one was less atrocious than the others."
Smiling as the two elves began to bicker over the new toy, Buffy leaned back into the soft comfort of her bed. This, she realized, was what she had been missing here in Middle-earth, and she couldn't help but wonder if perhaps both Elladan and Elrohir hadn't known that after all. Perhaps their escape route hadn't been chosen merely on the basis of unlocked doors after all.
"Aie! Buffy, please help him hasten to the next song! This is no music at all, but rather a torture device that must have been crafted by the Dark Lord Sauron himself!"
Grinning impishly, Buffy abandoned her internal musings and instead settled herself into the comfort and warmth that could only be brought by friends. These elves, strange though they were, did care for her on some level - and somehow Buffy realized that was all that she needed.
"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy."
Silence.
"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy."
Silence.
"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy!"
Frowning, Buffy met her determined stare through the polished window, her reflection bathed in the warm light of the setting sun. The twins had left hours ago, apparently believing the way to be safe from irate dwarves as they begged her forgiveness, claiming that work still needed to be done before the battle ahead, and many more hearts that needed lightening by their antics. Some time later a quiet, mousy girl had come in bearing heavy buckets of steaming water, the servant's eyes never quite meeting Buffy's own as she filled the tub for a welcome bath. A little bit later she had returned, this time bearing Buffy's leather ensemble - cleaned and repaired from the battle the night before. But that had been hours ago and now Buffy stood before her wall of windows, her gaze locked upon her own green-eyed reflection as the slow shift of light from the setting sun bathed her room in golden light.
"Nothing that's worthwhile is ever easy!"
Frown deepening, Buffy shook her head. "I need a new mantra," she admitted with a wry smile as she turned from the glass, her hands smoothing away invisible wrinkles in the soft leather she wore. The clothing hugged her petite frame, encasing her in a subtle reminder of home, and with a small smile the slayer realized that it was a nice touch - a bit of harmony that tied in with the pink pig that was snuggled comfortably atop her pillows, her duster lying haphazardly to the side with her sword propped against the foot of the bed.
Torn from her thoughts by a soft knock at the door, Buffy instinctively started forward, years of living on the Hellmouth having ingrained in her the basic rule of never offering an open invite to whomever waited without. But then, this wasn't Sunnydale and she hadn't seen a vampire (other than Angel and Spike) in months. Grinning at the thought, Buffy purposely turned from the closed door and settled into a chair, her legs stretched out before her. "Come in," she called out, feeling ridiculously pleased with herself for this small freedom.
"Are you dressed?" came the timid reply as a head of long, golden hair slowly edged around the door's frame.
"I wouldn't have asked you to come in if I wasn't," Buffy returned with a wry smile for the elf as she quickly abandoned her seat and hurried towards the bed. "Time to go?" she asked as she scooped up her leather jacket and shrugged into the fitted material, the usual flutters of adrenaline already beginning to course like fire through her veins.
"No, not yet," Legolas replied as he closed her door with a soft snick, the hesitance in his voice catching her attention.
Frowning, Buffy slowly straightened the lapel of her jacket as she eyed the elf that she had come to know better than anyone else in this world. He was dressed as he had been that morning, one ruined green tunic exchanged for another, and though the blood and dirt had been cleaned from his face, and his braids restored to their usual perfection, his shoulders seemed weighted by something that hadn't been there before. "Is something wrong?" she asked as he slowly moved past her until he came to stand before the wall of glass that separated them from the outside world in an unwitting mirror of Arwen's actions earlier that morning.
Smiling ruefully, Legolas met her eyes through the glass. "Most everything is wrong with this day, and yet some wrongs have been righted."
"Okay, that's pretty vague, even for an elf," Buffy muttered as she followed the lithe being until she was standing at his side, her eyes turning from the beauty of the setting sun as it slowly made its way towards the far horizon, dark shadows following fleetly on its tail, to inspect his ethereal features in the brilliant wash of color and light. "Did Gimli send you? Because harboring fugitives really isn't the same thing as aiding and abetting-"
"I came to thank you."
"Thank me?" Buffy parroted, her brows scrunching in confusion as Legolas finally turned towards her, his eyes burning with something that she couldn't understand. "Why-"
"For the great service that you have done me," he explained, his eyes refusing to relinquish their hold upon her as a slow smile lifted his narrow lips.
"Okay - so not following this conversation," Buffy admitted with a frown as Legolas took her hand in his, his earnest expression softening his features and causing him to look even younger than before. "Besides," she continued, "last I checked, my track record here hasn't exactly been great - and I certainly haven't serviced anyone or been serviced in far too long," she admitted with an impish smile.
Legolas slowly shook his head, his eyes dancing with amusement. "How quickly you forget the healing you so freely gave me in the gardens of the Houses of Healing," he teased as Buffy instinctively tried to step back from the reference to that awful moment, her mirth forgotten beneath a cold wave of bitter remembrance.
"And how quickly you forget how much you feared me when I forced my blood down your throat," Buffy countered with a bluntness that would have made Anya proud. She quickly shook her head as she turned away from the elf's searching gaze. "Legolas, while the end result of what I did is undoubtedly of the good, you seem to be forgetting that everyone else, yourself included, certainly didn't think so at the time. Aragorn had me thrown in jail!" she pointed out as she looked with blind eyes upon the setting sun, ignorant of its beauty as her thoughts remained locked on that dark day. "And while I'm still smarting from being jailed, Aragorn was right that day, same as he was today. My blood wasn't meant for this and you... you were just lucky to have survived," she admitted as she felt his hand fall gently upon her shoulder, silently drawing her attention to a gaze that remained warm despite her self-recriminations.
"My heart tells me that you speak true and that your blood was not meant to heal hurts in this manner, and yet..." he murmured, his words trailing into a sigh as he glanced at the darkening skies before turning to her with eyes clouded with emotion. "Buffy, you not only healed the hurts that had been done to my body, but also the old hurts that tore my soul in two long before that day. You healed me, body and soul."
For a moment the silence stretched as Buffy looked stupidly at Legolas, her mouth hanging open as she tried and failed to process his words. His claim was too huge for her to comprehend, and the gratitude that she finally recognized in his eyes was too alien to her. For seven years she had served her world by fighting the darkness that they were all too happy to ignore. It had been a thankless job, and gratitude had come all too seldom and far between the fights, the pain and losses. To have it so freely given now, and for a deed that she had considered a betrayal of their friendship... it was simply too much for her overburdened mind to understand. "I did what?" she hesitantly returned, finally breaking the stifling silence as she forced a weak grin.
Eyes dancing at her obvious confusion, Legolas squeezed her hand briefly before releasing it. "Gimli, too, knew not how to respond. But then, I have been afflicted with this longing for nearly all the time that he has known me. I only first encountered the gulls during our journeys with the Fellowship and-"
"Wait," Buffy quickly pleaded as she pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, her head spinning dizzily. "I don't understand," she admitted as she looked bewilderingly upon the fair-haired elf. "I thought you guys couldn't get sick."
"We cannot," Legolas agreed, his eyes shining. "But do you not remember that night when we were both taken captive in the southern reaches of Mirkwood?"
"How could I forget?" Buffy returned with a small grimace. "Stone beds, horrible hosts, and party games that left us both at an unfair advantage equate not-good-times in my book."
"Ah, but tis better to be in chains with a friend than to be in the woods with strangers," he argued with a sly grin.
Snorting, Buffy quickly shook her head. "Maybe for you and your friends, but me and mine have never really been into the whole bondage thing - well, for the most part," she amended with a cheeky smile.
Staring at her strangely, Legolas pursed his lips as though he was about to inquire further before curtly shaking his head. "Regardless, I was referring more to our talk of the sea."
Buffy's brow furrowed in confusion. "We talked about the sea? Like about taking a cruise or something?" she asked as Legolas shook his head in exasperation.
"Nay, not about sailing upon the seas," he clarified, "but of the longing that, once awoken in an elf, will never cease its siren song that forever beckons us to her sandy shores. It is this call that draws more and more of my kind over the seas each and every day - a call that all will answer in time and which no one is capable of refusing. Even me."
"So... you had the longing and because of me, now you don't," Buffy slowly summarized, even as she felt her heart begin to tighten. The joy and peace that shone in Legolas clear gaze was unmistakable, and that he thought that she had done him some glorious service was apparent, and yet Buffy couldn't help but worry if perhaps the opposite was true. From everything she had learned of elves, and from her own experience with two certain vampires with souls intact, living in a mortal world was perhaps more difficult than dying in one. While the eventuality of dying and leaving people behind was undoubtedly a sucky proposition, what hurt even worse was being the one left behind to deal with the pain and the loss. Legolas, with so many close mortal ties, was ultimately going to be the one left behind, no matter how he cut it, and from everything that she had gathered from the others, Valinor would be the only band-aid that could possibly cover such a devastating hurt.
"But... does that mean that now you're never going to go to your elf paradise to be with your family?" she continued as the heaviness began to settle upon her shoulders in that same, familiar weight. "You haven't cashed in your one-way ticket, have you?"
"Nay, some day, Valar permitting, I will take a ship to the land of my kin," Legolas quickly reassured. "But it is thanks to you that the day of which I speak will now be a day of my choosing. I may now live in peace until the time comes when I know it is right to finally depart these shores for all eternity," he finished with a slow, wistful smile.
Understanding all too well the pleasure of one day leaving for a promised paradise, Buffy turned and looked back into a world in which the light steadily began to fade. The sun had not yet passed beyond the horizon, and yet the deepening shadows in the barren gardens below served as a weighty reminder of all that had come to pass in order to bring them to this moment - to this night whose outcome was certain only in their defeat. "And I bet you're wishing now that you would have picked a day that came before this one," she murmured, remembering again the dark vision of a Minas Tirith that lay shattered and broken before the might of those her blood had created.
For a moment the silence lengthened before she felt Legolas' soft hand upon her shoulder. "What troubles you?" he asked, intuitively understanding that there was more than the seeming misdeeds of the past that pressed upon her.
Buffy ran a hand over her face as she silently weighed her options. To speak of her dream and put a sizeable damper on Legolas' joy at being sea-longing-free or to sit and stew over something that was beyond her capabilities of deciphering? Smiling slightly, Buffy realized that when put like that, the answer was quite easy - these past few months she was pretty sure she had stewed enough to last more than her share of lifetimes. "I had a dream this morning - a slayer dream," she clarified as she turned back to the elf with heavy eyes. "The only problem is that I've never been great with the deciphering."
"Deciphering? Of your dream?" Legolas queried, his brow creased in confusion.
"Yeah, I usually went to Giles for that," Buffy admitted before shaking her head in frustration. "I'm telling this all wrong," she grumbled as she turned and sank into a nearby chair. "Remember how I told you that part of the slayer package is the whole dreaming of things that don't make sense but usually come true in some form or another?" she asked, waiting for his hesitant nod as he settled lightly in a chair beside her, his eyes locked with her own. "Well this morning I had another one, and the basic message I was picking up was that I have a reason for being here even though I have no real place here, that I'm meant to stand alone in this, and when the stuff really hits the fan, I'll be alone because he won't be there for me."
Frown deepening, Legolas slowly looked away, as though something she had said had struck a nerve with the elven prince. "And you believe this will come to pass?" he asked, his voice low as he turned his searching gaze back upon her. "You truly believe that there is no place... no, that matter can wait," he murmured, causing Buffy's confusion to deepen as the elf visibly turned from his train of thought to focus on another track. "Who is this elusive 'he' that your dream refers to?"
"Isn't that the million dollar question?" Buffy asked, deciding to allow the elf's half-murmured thoughts to slide for now. "The first time I had the dream, I thought the 'he' was a lump grouping of my friends from home," she explained with a small shrug. "It made sense at the time because I knew they would be leaving and that I was going to be alone here."
"But you are not alone," Legolas quickly argued, his expression adamant as he scooted towards her so that their knees bumped against one another - a small, persistent contact that allowed no room for doubt.
"I know that now," Buffy reassured as she flashed the elf a small smile, wishing that she could somehow put words to how much that reassurance really meant to her. How did one explain that death itself wasn't nearly as frightening as making that transition alone - especially to one who was never meant to die? Buffy was mortal, and as all mortals, from the second that she was born she had begun to die. She even had a jump start on the rest of the populous - after all, been there, died twice - but forced to be alone in those final moments? That was the scariest part of all. And yet as Legolas once more took her hand in his gentle hold, his eyes filled with fierce conviction, Buffy realized that perhaps the words needn't be spoken aloud after all.
"Buffy, I cannot tell you what the future may bring nor where this road may lead us," Legolas murmured as he held her eyes within his steely gaze. "None can say with any true certainty - not even the Lady Galadriel - but I can promise you this: you shall not stand alone in this battle. I will stand by your side this night, and there will be nothing that shall tear me away," he vowed, his soft words warming her heart more than the hottest fire.
In that moment, Buffy felt the world melt away as she looked into his earnest blue eyes and truly believed that if anyone could make such a promise, it was the creature that sat before her. The Powers That Be, the higher beings that she had served for so many dark years, had stolen her from her world - from her friends - and in doing so they had deprived her of the very thing that was like air to her hurting body. Her friends were what she lived for. They were what she died for. They were the reason that she rose each morning and struggled against that which life threw her way. They were the reason that she would raise her sword against an enemy that seemed beyond her capabilities, and without them it had seemed inevitable that the words of her dream would come to pass. She would have been alone in the end, but by Legolas' word alone he would defy fate this night. He would stand against the crashing waves of destiny and he would keep her from what she feared most.
"Thank you," Buffy murmured, her voice both soft and sure as she felt another strand of her broken spirit mend with the elf's solemn promise. "I-" she began, her words forgotten as both slayer and elf turned towards the window as a single horn's low, mournful note carried to their sensitive ears from the outside world. "Does that mean that it's time to go?" Buffy asked uncertainly as she abandoned her chair and moved towards the wall of glass.
"Nay, those horns belong not to the men of Gondor," Legolas returned, his brow furrowed as another horn sounded, this one light and clear and far different from the first.
"What-" Buffy began again as the elf's features fractured into a wide, disbelieving grin.
"Quickly, gather your things!" he ordered as he bounded towards the door, just as a third horn issued its cry, causing the elf's delighted steps to falter as he laughed aloud. "Buffy, enni!" he cried, unconsciously slipping into his native tongue as he turned to her with eyes that glowed with excitement.
"Coming!" Buffy grunted as she shot the elf an exasperated look, one hand tucking her dagger into its sheath at her side while the other snagged her sword from where it was still propped against her bed. Turning she hurried towards the elf and followed him into a hall that was now filled with servants, soldiers and nobles alike - their excited voices carrying over one another in a chaotic din.
Pausing in the open doorway, Buffy turned and surveyed her empty room that was awash in the light of the setting sun. Instinctively she looked past the opulent dressings and instead focused on that which mattered most: Mr Gordo, her photo album, and her small pile of gifts that were all that remained of a lifetime that was so far away.
"Buffy-"
"I'm ready," Buffy interrupted as she pulled the door closed, the soft snick resounding with a fierce finality that carried above the clamoring voices. "I'm ready," she whispered again as her heart began to hammer, Willow's magical stone searing her skin with each strong thrum.
Yet the burning press was forgotten as Legolas seized her hand, his strong fingers wrapping around her own as he insistently pulled her forward, their feet tapping off of the richly carpeted stone to the call of the three strange horns.
muindor-nin: my brother
enni: to me